


our drowning visions

by windthorne



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Colors, F/M, the au where you see color with your soulmate oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6372859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windthorne/pseuds/windthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>all ichigo could see was black and white.<br/>and then he met her.</p>
<p>(the color au, with a twist.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	our drowning visions

**Author's Note:**

> remember that au where the world is black and white, and then you touch your soulmate and you instantly see color?  
> yeah, that's this, but i changed some things.  
> 

_Black. Grey. White._

“No, not white,” His mother said as she patted his head. “Your hair isn’t white, Ichigo. It’s orange.”

“Orange?” He grabbed a handful of his hair, and then pointed at the fruit basket before them. “Like the oranges we eat?”

“Yes,” She laughed as he tilted his head at her, watching her with amazement. “It’s a bright color. It shines like the sun, and everybody can see it from a mile away.”

He immediately looked down, frowning. “I don’t like that.”

His mother squatted down in front of him, a rich sight for his young eyes. “It’s okay to feel like that,” she said. “When you finally see them, you’ll understand just how wonderful they are.”

* * *

 

_He asks his mother, “Tell me about the colors.”_

_She replies with a dictionary of visions._

_“Blue, the color of the sky and water. It sounds like ocean waves, feels like the wind and water rushing through your fingertips._

_Red, the color of blood. It sounds like yelling, feels like anger, resentment, and yearning mixed in one._

_Green, the color of the grass and trees. It sounds like chirping birds, feels like fresh air and freedom._

_Yellow, the color of light and the sun. It sounds like buzzing bees, feels like pressing heat and bitter tastes._

_Orange, the color of your hair and fire. It sounds like crackling flames, feels like protectiveness and hands that are held._

_Purple, the color of bruises and pretty flowers. It sounds like deep hums, feels like the best kind of pain possible.”_

* * *

 

For fifteen years, he stays living in a black and white world.

He can’t say that he likes the colors he sees. There’s nothing he can use to compare, when all he’s ever seen is two hues.

_“You see color when you fall in love with your soul mate."_

His mother always pressed on this universal fact, never letting him forget how she and his father could see what he couldn’t. Meanwhile, his failure of a father would reminisce about her in the most random times, reminding him of his obnoxious appearance, and his mother’s soft eyes.

He doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to not know what his colors are—specifically his hair color. The teachers at his school know. Some kids like to define him by it. 

The few people that can see color, see him as nothing but trouble. 

Of course, he wouldn’t know why, with the way he’s colorblind. The rest of the world has always been like this. He’s so used to it, a universe with just two shades. He’s never tried to look for his soulmate, because what would color add to his life?

(Nothing, he thinks.) 

But then he meets her. 

* * *

 

She is one of the only shinigamis who has never seen color. 

Hitsugaya, Ukitake, Kyouraku, and especially Nii-sama–they can all see the brilliant different shades of a mysterious world. She wonders what she looks like to them. She wonders what they look like to themselves. 

A hundred years of death, and not a hint of color has appeared for her. But she’s not surprised—after all, she is dead.

Apparently color gives a different perspective of life, but there’s nothing she can do to find them. Searching for them would be futile, especially since Soul Society is so scattered and spread out.

But it’s been more than a century, and sometimes… she yearns. 

Nonetheless, she goes on with her life. She completes her duties, she works for her name, and she watches as others look around at the world in a whole new light. Everything is at it is, in the same black and white she’s always known.

And then she meets him. 

* * *

 

She stabs the wild-eyed boy with her sword, and her hands shake. 

Everything about him is no different from the same souls she’s seen throughout her life–but why does she suddenly want to know what he looks like? What colors he held?

Their lives become intertwined, and they end up constantly at each other’s side, constantly bickering, constantly an inch apart. And she lies in his closet, thinking about how stupid she was to have given him her powers without a single trace of doubt. How inconsiderate, and unprofessional—

But for some reason, her throat constricts at the thought of his eyes, begging for the chance to protect his family.

In those moments, she instantly imagines his soul to have the craziest colors in the world, whatever those may be.

* * *

 

He’s stabbed by a sword, and yet he feels absolutely no pain. All he can think is that he can’t close his eyes for shit. 

The girl, or whatever she is, catches him off guard, from the very moment he kills his first hollow. Everything about her captivates him—but definitely not in a romantic way. Not even in a friendly way, because–hell no.

She’s mean, arrogant, snotty, _fake_ –

And intriguing, unfortunately. 

But there are moments, brewing deep in his soul, when she puts her hands on her hips and her skirt sways, yelling at him to _just kill the hollow already_. His deepest thoughts ring in his mind, and he can’t help but wonder what colors she wore. 

* * *

 

_Orange._

She stares at the world one last time and awaits death, seeing the Sōkyoku flying towards her. She says goodbye, thanks the world for keeping her alive just a little longer. But then her death never comes, and instead of being consumed, she is left to stare at the fool who came back to save her again.

Again. Another rescue attempt, and this time—he’s blocking the damn Sōkyoku in front of her. She wants to punch his pretty little smirk, and she also wants to cradle his face because he’s still here, after all this time.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. This couldn’t be happening. The stupid idiot couldn’t seriously be here…

She opens her eyes.

Her world is instantly shot with different hues—no longer could she just see the simple black and white. At first, it hurts, and she has to keep blinking to get used to the different colors.

…Wait. Colors.

She…sees them. She sees _everything_.

And she sees—orange.

Her world is enveloped in–orange, that’s the word. Her soul somehow already knows the color, because it’s so bright and _in her face_. Her vision is filled with different tints, from the sky, to her robe, to the pedestal her figure floats on. 

All the light she’s seen in her life, all transformed into various shades… and it’s so overwhelming—but so _beautiful_. Her breath and her tears can’t keep up with her astonishment. 

And then she looks at him.

The Sōkyoku that was meant to kill her stays still, flapping in a single space, while the substitute shinigami stands in the center. His smile is no different, white teeth and all. But his eyes, and his insane hair— 

Orange. Brown. Black.

Him.

* * *

 

Later, when she is saved, and she can’t stop looking around at all the colors, she catches her breath. She’s already taken a large amount of time just staring at herself in the mirror, tracing her pale face and her violet eyes.

They say that you see the colors when you fall in love with your soulmate. And she knows–she knows exactly who made her see them.

— _the boy with the obscenely bright hair and the brown eyes_ —

It scares the living (dead) shit out of her.

Fate just loves to play with her soul, apparently.

Because what if he sees them too? What if he knows? 

She tries not to let the colors get to her, really tries. But it’s so hard to do the task when they’re all so vibrant and breath-taking. They give life a new meaning and she doesn’t know how to feel.

But then she sees his face move, his lips spilling her name, his blush rising, and it makes all the difference.

Her mouth keeps silent, waiting for him to fall, too. 

But her eyes–they _speak._  

* * *

 

His powers are gone. His powers, and her.

His eyes have been closed since she disappeared through the gate to Seiretei, and he has to force himself to open them again, knowing she wouldn’t be there in front of him. 

He expects to see emptiness.

What he sees instead is a splash of shades. He sees all the colors, and he almost chokes on his uprising spit. His eyes widen, and he recognizes each of them immediately. Blue, red, yellow, green… How does he know them already? 

He sees his own hair color–orange. _(The color of fire.)_ Of course he got the most obnoxious shade of hair. Now he knows why everyone keeps clear of him.

He sees his friends in a new light–Inoue’s hair, Ishida’s eyes, Chad’s skin. He sees the ocean, the grass, the clouds. 

But he doesn’t see her. He has no idea what her colors are. He never got to find them out, damn him and his late perceptions.

But he knows–he knows why he can see them, and he knows who gave them the ability to see them. 

She gave him everything else, anyway. 

If only he had never closed his eyes. 

* * *

 

_Purple._

The Gods have been playing a game with him for too long, and the end comes when he’s stabbed by a glowing sword—again.

He thinks of a memory, of something that happened to him before— _do you want to save your family?_ —and he immediately thinks that these kinds of things need to stop happening to him.

He turns around to his father and Urahara, a sprawl of tears dragging down his face, because he’s been betrayed, again. Everyone, even his own family, has turned against him, and Tsukishima and Ginjo _laugh._

_I’ve lost everything_ , he thinks.

But he’s wrong. 

He turns to the actual person behind him, and sees… purple. 

_(The color of bruises and pretty flowers.)_

Her eyes meet his, and he blinks a few times to make sure it’s really her. She looks different, and yet the exact same. But her eyes—they’re a color that only belong to one person. Of course she stood out over the rest of them. Of course she’d stab him.

It’s all instinct. 

Purple. Black. White. 

Her. 

* * *

 

He can’t help himself anymore. Seventeen months is a long time.

"Do you see them, too?" He asks.

She pauses, and turns to him. He’s sitting in his bed, looking at her the way men saw the stars, the space, an untouchable soul. 

She stands by his—no, her closet, hand on the door. And she realizes that he knows. 

"I do.” She says, keeping her eyes trained on his.

“So…” He blinks as though he can’t believe he’s seeing her. “You see… my hair.”

“Yes.” She licks her lips. “Orange." 

"My eyes.” He doesn’t blink. Can’t blink.

“Brown." 

The world is silent, but her mind whirls, watching as he stands, still gazing at her. She wonders if her face mirrors his, as if he’s just seen the sun. 

"What about me?” She asks, pointing straight at herself. “What about my eyes…?”

“Purple.” He heaves a deep breath.

Her fingers brush through her strands. “My hair?”

“Black, of course.”

She gulps, and her hand goes to linger just above her mouth. “…My lips?" 

"Mine.” He answers immediately, and she stops breathing.

He makes his way towards her, not even a hint of doubt in his demeanor.

“That’s not a color.” She takes a step back and hits the closet. He keeps his feet moving.

“I don’t really care.”

Both of them had had time to dwell on this, the fact that their souls were of two different times, and yet…

Death and life have no boundaries after all.

“All of you… it doesn’t matter how insanely purple your eyes are… or how crazy my hair looks.” His forehead hits hers. “You’re all still mine." 

She lays a hand on his chest, and his body bows just over hers, as she’s pressed against the closet door. 

"Don’t be so possessive, you fool.” She chuckles, slapping him half-heartedly.

“Can’t help it,” He grabs her waist, tugs her closer. “Not my fault you were meant for me." 

"For an idiot like you, you can sure talk the talk.” Her lips brush against his, and her arms wrap around his neck. 

“Shut up, just–shut up.” He leans in, breaking the space that kept them separated for so long.

He kisses her until they both can’t breathe, and he doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until they both have to pull away for air.

At least now, when he opens his eyes, he knows she’ll always be there.

**Author's Note:**

> i probably could have gone more in depth with this au, but i didn't have time and i think i would have just collapsed in tears if i wrote any more. bc wow..... ichiruki is something else. plus the fact that this started at 1100 words, and then it ended up being way more than that. oops.  
> let me know what you think :)


End file.
